Favorite Pair of Jeans
by knowname
Summary: Dean is terrible at doing laundry. Dean x reader. Smut.


**Warning: Smut**

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"Dean….. Winchester." You bit out through clenched teeth. "What. Is. This?"

You picked up what was once a respectable sized T shirt from the basket of wet laundry and held up the now teeny-tiny garment for him to see.

Dean glanced up from where he was flipping through a magazine across the aisle of the laundromat.

"I dunno. Your new Hooters uniform?" He smirked.

"What happened here? I said warm water in this load! Not as hot as it can be! Haven't you done laundry before?"

"No," he shrugged.

"How have you lived this long without doing laundry?"

"Sam does it."

You rolled your eyes and looked down miserably at the only T shirt you have to wear on the long drive home after getting pulled into this impromptu hunt with Dean, one that resulted in both of you being bathed in blood after killing some particularly nasty vamps. You also managed to lose your wallet and credit cards along the way, so buying new clothes would not be an option on this trip.

Fortunately Dean had some dollars on him and a suspicious pair of spare boxer briefs that he scrounged up from his back seat for you to change into and your utilitarian sports bra managed to stay clean enough to wear while you waited for your clothes to wash.

Aside from the Vietnamese lady behind the counter (who was remarkably unfazed by two people walking in covered in dark stains and smelling strongly of copper) and an old man with a trucker hat and a flannel with the sleeves cut off who hadn't stopped ogling you since you hastily pulled off your jeans and stepped into the questionable pair of boxers, the place was empty.

Your jeans, while free from blood had also managed to shrink down a size or two. With a groan, you threw the clothes into the dryer for the minimum amount of time, praying they wouldn't shrink any further. Dean's white T shirt in that load that had also shrunk and turned a light shade of pink, but that didn't appear to phase him as he already had a perfectly decent sleeveless undershirt on.

You pulled your clothes out of the dryer when they were still damp, hoping that putting them on when they were a little wet would help stretch them back into shape. However, in order to do this, it meant making a bit of a show of it. Both Dean and the trucker hat man watched in amused silence as your arms flailed over your head while you tried to get into your dark cotton T shirt.

Clearly not making any progress and sick of feeling them staring at you, you gave up on the shirt and tossed it back into the basket for now.

Your once favorite pair of jeans you eyed conspicuously. This was going to be interesting. It didn't help that it was nearing that certain time of the month where your body decided to add a few extra pounds of bloatedness to your thighs and fullness to your breasts. It also made the casual sexual tension that you and Dean had shared over the years of occasional hunts together even more unbearable, for you at least. You knew that the men weren't about to stop staring so you decided to grab the jeans and get this over with. You quickly pulled off Deans loose boxers and threw them over the row of washers between you and right into his face before stepping into the damp, tight denim. And thus begun the dance that every girl who owns a pair of skinny jeans knows, the act of shimmying and squating and stepping until somehow you fit yourself into those damn pants.

Your boy short underwear was thankfully modest in the front but rather cheeky in the back, so you were stuck stupidly kicking your legs trying to pull up your pants facing Dean's insufferable smirk of amusement since you didn't want to turn your back to him and give him even more of a show by seeing your attempts to stuff your rather pert ass cheeks into the stubborn pants. It felt like a challenge watching him watch you, and breaking eye contact with him would mean embarrassment and defeat. You flat out ignored the trucker hat man. After some tremendous effort and sucking in, you finally managed to clasp the button and let out a breadth of relief and grumbled to yourself.

"Ok, this shouldn't be too bad. Once they dry on me they should be stretched back to their original size. Sort of."

"Yeah you keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes at him, turning to the damp shirt that you now had to tackle. With your back turned on them and you threw it over your arms, managing to get it over your head but thoroughly stuck around your shoulders. You took several deep breaths and managed to barely get it over your breasts after a few minutes when a pair of hands appeared from behind you to gently tug down the rest of the fabric down over your ribcage and sides. What was once a shirt that was loose enough to move in and keep your feminine form discreet during a hunt now clung to your curves, stopping just past your navel leaving some of your midriff on display. It would have to do for now, you've worn more revealing outfits than this before. You slowly turned around to see dean staring down at you, making no effort to hide the fact that he was positively drinking in the sight of you.

"Fits you even better than it did before," he said huskily.

You groaned and gave him a smack in the chest before tossing his own pink shirt at his face. "Let's see you put on your own clean handiwork. I bet pink looks great on you."

"Everything looks great on me," he replied smugly, before taking the shirt and pulling it over the white ribbed under shirt that he wore. Your lips almost twisted into a smile but you bit it back. It did look good on him. The plain t shirt hadn't shrunk as drastically as yours, just enough to show off his toned chest and strong biceps.

Not trusting your raised hormones to betray your face into making mushy googly eyes at him, you turn your back on him and start to gather your things and head out to the Impala leaving Dean scrambling to pull on his jacket and grab his duffel bag.

You'd been driving along for about an hour when you notice Dean has been stealing glances at you, or more specifically your body, for the past few miles.

"Can I help you?" He had just merged off the interstate onto a long, dark two lane road nestled in between rows of trees.

He shrugged casually, one arm draped over the steering wheel, one over part of the back of your seat. "Are you hungry? There was a bar and burger joint listed off this exit. We can stop for a bite and a drink."

"You wanna stop again? But there were tons of good places where we just spent an hour waiting for our laundry to be done."

"Yeah, but I wasn't hungry then. Plus I couldn't let you walk into a bar in just my boxers and a bra." He winked at you, goddamn winked.

"I'm not sure I can go into a bar in these clothes either."

He flashed that cheeky grin at you, and gave you a friendly if lingering slap on the knee. "Sure you can doll, hell, I've gone on dates with chicks with less clothes than you right now."

You let out a snort "I don't think those were 'dates' that you are referring to. Plus, I don't have any cash and no cards until I get back home."

"Relax, dinner's on me."

"Oh, so now that I've shown some skin I can get taken out for a meal by the chivalrous Dean Winchester," you playfully shoot back it him.

"What can I say, I'm a gentleman. And tonight's your lucky night." He leaned forward and flicked you on the nose.

You returned your gaze to the highway in front of you and force yourself not to think about what a lucky night with Dean Winchester would entail.

After a few more miles through a quiet town you reached a dusty wooden bar promising cheap beer and fresh burgers. Dean parked the impala among the other cars in the dirt lot and held the door for you as you stepped inside the bar.

You got a bar table for the two of you while dean ordered drinks and food from the bar. The establishment was mostly filled with middle aged men with questionable looking hygiene, a few of whom's appreciating gazes did not go unnoticed by you, even if you pretended they did.

Dean returned a few moments later with pints and the food arrived not long after that. You both ate in silence, more famished than you realized after a stressful 24 hour hunt. By the time you both had finished, more patrons had filled in for the dinner rush and you left your high table to grab a free space at the bar for some whiskeys.

"Are you sure you should be drinking before we hit the road?" You eye his second whiskey double, dubiously as he sips it back in long gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing as he slowly swallowed.

"I can handle myself, and if not, I can pass out in the backseat for a bit."

"What!" You gasp, "No passing out. I want to go home," You all but whine. The alcohol is getting to you, flushing your cheeks and helping you relax enough to forget about your previous self consciousness about being in a bar full of people and Dean in a getup about two sizes too small. "If anything I can drive."

"Hate to break it to you babe but no you can not. Nobody but me drives baby. Plus your more sauced than I am."

"I am not!" You exclaim, before the room spins a bit and you realize that you might just be. "Fine. Maybe a little. But even more reason to go home soon."

"Yeah, I think that actually might be a good idea." Dean said in a low voice, edging a bit closer to you and placing one hand on your knee as he stared at a bearded man further down the bar from you.

His hand did not go unnoticed and you glanced behind your shoulder at the other guy. He looked more like a regular frat boy than any real sort of threat.

"Dean Winchester, are you jealous?" You turn back and arch one eyebrow at him. You have a comfortable friendship with him but the alcohol definitely helped push your flirtation along.

"I don't do jealous. Just doing my pal a favor. These sleezebags haven't stopped staring at you since you walked in here."

The bartender had delivered you a glass of water that you requested and you sipped it delicately in response and shrugged. You were no stranger to the intentions of men in bars. Or men in general.

The bar area began filling up now too and Dean had moved in closer to you as a result of the congestion and placed his hand on the small of your back. His warm fingers casually stroking the exposed skin there and fingering the hem of your shirt. You'd always maintained a light hearted if not painfully polite flirtation ship, but never could you recall quite so much casual touching. The occasional pulling you out of harms way, throwing his body on top of yours to futilely block a magical curse from a witch, a long tight hug after that one time you insisted on going alone to meet that handsome crossroads demon that almost ended up horribly wrong.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by something cold and wet suddenly making its way down over your shoulder and into the the crevice of your cleavage.

"Hey watch it man!" Dean had his arm around you and was barking at the tall drunk frat boy that apparently had been careless while retrieving three beers from the bartender to hand out to his friends before you could even process what happened.

"Take it easy dude! Sorry miss," the man apologized to you and zeroed in on the damp beer stairs along with your cleavage. Dean protectively placed both of arms on either side of you and the bar and gave the guy a look that said to fuck off. After the man turned back toward his buddies Dean shrugged out of his leather jacket and placed it over your shoulders. Either to cover your stained shirt or perhaps just cover you in general.

"Gotta take a leak. Be right back." And with that headed toward the lavatory, his pink shirt disappearing in the crowd.

It was a few minutes after he left your side that someone else sidled up beside you in the now free space.

"Buy you a beer darlin?" The bulky stranger slurred.

"No thanks." You reply shortly, lifting your ice water back to your lips. "I'm good."

"Come on now, not every day a fella gets to buy a pritty lil thing like you a drink in a place like this."

"The lady said she's good." Dean suddenly replied from behind her.

The man eyed his pink muscle shirt dubiously. "And you are?"

"I'm with her. And she said she's good." Dean turned your back toward the bar facing his chest, never breaking menacing eye contact with the other man until he backed off.

You glance up at him with a skeptical look in your eye. He had a few days worth of stubble on his cheek and he smelled of whiskey and leather. "I can handle myself you know."

"What like you handled that vampire this morning, doll?" His gaze was dark and relentless. He's watching your lips, you run your tongue over them self consciously before answering.

"Goddamn it Dean I did handle that, or at least I would have if you-" but you didn't have time to finish your sentence before he dropped his head down down and crushed his mouth to yours. His tongue swept over your lower lip, gently nipping there to get you to part them slightly and grant him entrance, darting his tongue into your mouth and stoking only briefly before pulling back and looking down at you.

"Let's get out of here."

In the front seat of the car, instead of starting the ignition and driving off, Dean leaned over to your seat and snaked an arm behind your waist, scooting you closer before kissing you again. One hand was in your hair, angling your head so that he could deepen the kiss. You sighed against him and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. The feel of his strong arms closing about you, of the hard, warm planes of his chest beneath your palms seemed to spark a flame within you and the kiss took on a life of its own. Any thoughts about the boundaries of friendship were scorched to ashes now.

There was only heat and the taste of him, the feel of him pressed against you.

He moved one hand from where it was tangled in the back of your hair to pull you closer still. It's only a moment before his lips claim yours again, his hands now venturing up to the mound of your breast, which thanks to your cycle are remarkably more firm and sensitive than usual. He moves his hot mouth to your ear and then your neck while moving one hand up under your T shirt and the fabric of your sports bra, feeling the heavy weight of your breast and cupping gently. He claims your mouth again and goes to move your shirt up off you, getting the fabric up above your breasts and around your underarms before it becomes clear that the thing is not going to slip over your head so easily. You break away from the kiss with a laugh. "Dean it was hard enough getting into this thing the first time," you warn. He looks down at your chest and carefully pushes the elastic hem of that utilitarian sports bra up to where your T shirt is bunched around your underarms, exposing your beasts to the cold air. The effect of freeing them partially from their constraints but still having both the tight tee and bra on left them pushed together, taught and aching. Dean drank in the sight of you for a moment before caressing one breast and bringing his hot mouth down on the other, and with lips, teeth, and tongue, he explored over every sweet contour.

"Ah, Dean," your croak out, shifting so that your laying down more in the seat as Dean moves over you. Surprised by the amount of space in the bench seat of the Impala, you run your hands through his spiky hair and instinctively bring your legs up and wrap them around his waist. He rocks into the cradle of your hips, were you can feel his arousal through his jeans, and lift your legs to adjust them higher around his waist and pull him closer into you when you both hear it.

The sudden, loud, unmistakable sound of fabric ripping.

"Oh. My. God." Mortification slowly crept over you.

Dean paused his attention from your breasts to chuckle darkly and moved one hand down between your legs to examine the extent of the damage.

"Dean!" You cry out in embarrassment when his hands make contact with the skin at the point of where your inner thigh and panties meet. He can practically fit his whole hand through the tear in your jeans there.

"These were my favorite jeans," you whine at him.

He's still smirking when he pushes his hand further through the large whole in the denim there, caressing your skin for a second before going to your panties.

"Now they're my favorite."

"Hey!" You cry out in protest, even though you both knew his hands were going to make it into your pants eventually. Your noise of protest quickly turns into a suppressed moan when he runs his index finger over your panties between your cleft.

"I can feel how wet you are," he growled before sitting back to take a look at the full sight of you: finally he had you underneath him in the seat of his car, after jerking off to this fantasy for so long.

"And I can see how wet you are right through your panties. Absolutely soaked." He glanced back up to your face and holds your gaze for an intense moment.

You squirm under his gaze and pull him back down to kiss you, moving your hands up under his shirt and over his solid torso. One hand still in your pants, his digits begin to slowly move over your covered slit, pausing for a moment before circling around your clit. He goes back to slip one calloused finger under the thin fabric and slowly begins to part you there.

You're not sure you've ever been this turned on in your life. He used his fingertip to gather the moisture there and move it back up to circle your clit once more. "Damn, you're so wet for me."

He moves his mouth down to your chest once more, this time driving two blunt fingers inside of you as his teeth scrape at one taught nipple. You can't help but moan and clench down over his fingertips and he begins to pull them back out and then inside again. "Fuck." His touch became more insistent, determined to get you off. He only pauses for a moment to tear the fabric further to better angle his hand.

Heat pooled in your stomach, and you feel like a coil tightening more and more before it springs back in its release as you clutch at his shoulders.

"That's it baby, keep squeezing me." His fingers are driving further now, curving slightly inside you to find that spot and keep working there.

"Dean!" You cry out, overcome with sudden release. "Oh, God."

His breath is warm in your ear, and he plants a hot kiss on your neck as you continue to shatter. "That's it baby, keep coming for me." His fingers don't stop and surprisingly neither do you. Far away in the back of your mind you're genuinely concerned that you might ruin his leather seats, but your wetness only seems to compel him further. You clutch at his pink shirt as the orgasm rips through you.

You're still shaking as you begin to come down, aware of how closely you're wrapped in Dean's arms, with quivering limbs and your chest heaving against him. He pulls you up into lap and holds you there for a moment as your senses slowly return to you, or least enough to catch your breath and realize that his arousal is still violently straining against his jeans.

When you kiss him again it's sweet; slow, and languid, and passionate. In this position and your pants all but ripped in half you can easily grind against him, the rough denim slightly abrasive against your exposed skin. His warm hands slide over your sides as you unfasten the buttons on his pants, his erection instantly springing to attention. You carefully free him from his boxers, his member hot and throbbing in your hand. You pump him slowly as he bites out a low groan. Carefully, Dean lifts you over him and you guide him to your entrance, pulling your panties to the side and opening yourself more fully. You slowly sink onto him, pausing as you pass over the tip of him to your lift your gaze to his. His jaw clenches and he gently caresses one palm to your cheek before thrusting upwards, hard.

You gasp at the sudden fullness before moving again, building up a steady rhythm. He groaned, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, wait Dean I'm not-" He pushes all the way into you for a moment before rustling in the glove compartment and pulling out a condom, which he quickly tears open and eases you out of him to cover himself before thrusting into you again. Pressure begins to build again and you clench onto him, arousal dripping down his cock.

'Ugh, that's so hot," his growl was frightening as he moved one hand to your clit and began circling feverishly. He kept working as you rode him until another orgasm gripped at you, pushing you over the edge and your juices gushing over him, your slick folds making it all the more easier to ride him.

"I can feel you dripping down my balls, honey; I'm gonna come soon." At this point all your composure has been lost to pleasure, any embarrassment or fear for the impala's leather seats are gone.

Dean wraps his arms around you and pins your back to the seat once more, moving over you and quickly filling the space between you both again.

"I can feel you tightening around me; come for me one more time doll."

The words are caught in your throat. "I don't… I can't."

The pressure continues to build as he thrusts over and over until tremors wrack your body and you shatter once more. He piles into you before giving in to his own release with a carnal groan before collapsing in a heap on your chest.

"You're still shaking." He murmurs after a moment.

"Somehow, I think I'll live."

You're not sure how long you both lay there, catching your breath. Your eyes are closed but you feel him move just slightly off of you after some time and hover over you.

Fuck. You're laying in Dean Winchester's car with a thoroughly ruined pair of pants and your top squished about your armpits with your hair all tangled up. What a sight you must make. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare."

There's no saving your pants so you tug your shirt down and scrub your hands over your face. You feel his leather jacket get placed over you and hear the rev of the ignition. He places a hand on your ankle and caresses your skin gently as he slowly pulls out of the parking lot, turning on the windshield wipers to clear away the mass of condensation that's covered all the windows. His hand remains there as you drift off to sleep while the miles of highway stretch before you.

"Get some rest sweetheart. Next time I'm gonna have you in bed and rip those clothes clean off you."


End file.
